Kate's Story
by pass.it.on-girls
Summary: .New Title Pending. a collaborative story for Lady CatrionaArre. Katie & Oliver have a little something for one another, but like hell are they going to admit it, being stubborn as they are, so its left to those around them to help them see the light.
1. Roger Davies

Hello and welcome to pass.it.on-girls' first collaborative effort.

This story (the title of which, is still to be decided upon) is a gift for our friend _Lady Catriona-Arre_, whom we all love immensely, and without whose stories we probably couldn't survive.

The story is structured so that each chapter is from the point of view of one of fourteen characters (or character groups) from the HP universe who have some kind of influence or insight into the lives of Katie Bell and Oliver Wood.

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Dedicated with love, friendship and the joy of writing, to:  
_Lady Catriona-Arre._

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**Chapter One written by:  
**_Just-Giddy_

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**I  
Roger Davies.**

As shallow, conceited, and cocky people saw Roger Davies to be, the truth was, well, he did have a deep side to him. I'm sure at the moment you're thinking such thoughts along the way as 'no way', 'oh c'mon' and the infamous 'pur-lease'. You'll be disappointed to be proved wrong. Or at least half proved wrong.

You see at the moment, Roger was thinking. Yes, _thinking_.

Or daydreaming. Take your pick.

Sitting at the Ravenclaw table, chin in hand, spoon in the other, the sixth year Quidditch captain let his ears block out the noise of the girl sitting next to him. Yes, she was pretty with her dark curls and shining blue eyes, but you see, his perfectly situated spot just served its purpose.

You'll be surprised to hear that Roger was methodical as well. The dark haired Ravenclaw unconsciously ran a hand through his short black hair unconsciously as a certain fifth year sat down at the Gryffindor table. He knew she sat in the same spot every meal, every day, every time. Without fail. So, he positioned himself so if she happened to glance up for a moment or two, she would probably catch sight of him. Almost without fail.

He was methodical because she was habitual.

The girl next to him continued to ramble on and he listened. Or pretended that he was listening. He nodded and 'mhmm'ed at time which seemed to keep her happy and rambling. That was good enough. He was an underachiever anyway. Why else would McGonagall suggest he get some help from one of his peers? He should've known better than to suggest a fifth year for sixth year material though.

He shook his mind rid of the stupid thoughts and passed a glance to the dark haired girl with a glimmering smile, agreeing to what he didn't know. He held eye contact with her but his mind was racing on ways to get out of it. He caught sight of the butter-bun basket. He smirked. It was far out of his reach - perfect. So with a large twist, turn and stretch, he was able to not only grab hold of a satisfactory bun but regain the more favourable sight that was Katie Bell.

Purposely nibbling slowly, he watched as she groggily brought the mug of her coffee to her lips. He laughed lightly at the smile that crept across her face which made the girl next to him smile broader, as she thought it was because of what she said. He glanced at her sideways; happy to see her talking away as per usual, but turning back to Katie Bell a scowl crossed his handsome face.

As one can imagine a situation that would bring about this change would be an obstruction in his line of view to the blonde girl.

It just so happened that it was an obstruction. A tall. Broad-shouldered. Someone-you-would-hate-to-sit-behind-in-one-of-those-muggle-movie-theaters. Scottish one. It was Oliver Wood.

And apparently he'd said something rather funny as Katie was laughing while one of the Weasley twins (he could never tell which) was giving a sour glare to their captain. Roger followed the redhead's lead and glared as well.

But none the less he watched their morning antics, now out of boredom rather than methodical behaviour as he rested his elbows on the old tabletop. As Katie's laughter died down she reached for a butter bun - one very similar to the one he was nibbling on, he noticed - but her captain beat her too it. Oliver snatched the last one out of the basket, now with a pleased stomach but an angry chaser.

Roger watched with amusement as she pointed a dejected finger at the seventh year, her brows knitted close together, as she attacked him verbally. Had he been a tad closer he probably would've been able to read her lips.

But Oliver Wood did have a long list of insulting names behind him.

Quidditch obsessed.

Pitch Mongrel.

Relentless captain.

Quidditch Nazi leading the pack.

And that was only naming a few. She was probably coming up with a few choice selections of her own.

Roger chuckled as the broad shoulder's belonging to the Quidditch Nazi slumped with a defeated sigh before tossing the bun across to her. She smiled in a gleeful triumphant way before taking a victorious bite, smirking viciously with gleaming green eyes.

Returning back to his breakfast he pushed thoughts of the blonde chaser to the back of his mind - for surely he couldn't get rid of her forever. After all, a butter bun did not a breakfast of champions make. And Roger was a champion. So for the next half hour he heartily ate his waffles, chugged down his orange juice with joy, and chomped down on sausages. Life was pleasant enough, that dark haired girl was still infatuated with him.

Things were going smoothly that morning.

He got breakfast. He got to watch Katie Bell for a few minutes. Laughed at her antics. Completely block out the girl next to him. And received a terrific breakfast - all before first period.

The Ravenclaw captain closed his eyes for a moment contently, letting the noise of the clattering hall fill his ears. That was until, a loud shouting interrupted the chit-chat that normally filled the halls.

"OK, WOOD. _I GET IT_! YOU HAVE FAN GIRLS! CON-GRA-T-U-LATIONS!" 

The raven-haired sixth year's eyes snapped open. The shrill voice belonged none other than to Katherine Jade Bell. His brows furrowed lightly in an odd amusement. He forced his brow to smoothen as his blue eyes watched the scene unfold in front of him.

The short girl was towering over her captain, a feat for her height, with her hands planted firmly on her hips. Her brow was stitched together defiantly, her jaw clenched where it was normally light with a smile, and her ski-slope nose was scrunched up in that cute way it did when she was mad. Oliver was staring up at her, his shoulders set in place as the verbal onslaught continued.

"YOU'VE TOLD ME EVERYDAY NOW! AND IN CASE YOU DIDN'T NOTICE-I DON'T GIVE A RAT'S ASS!"

He stood up at this, opening his mouth to say something, but someone had for him as Katie whipped around to a small girl down the table, "WELL IF YOU WANT TO SNOG HIM SO BADLY DRAG HIM INTO A BROOM CLOSET!"

"Kat look-" Her captain stated with sympathy for the small redhead on the verge of tears.

"DON'T 'LOOK' ME!" she pointed a finger at him. "YOU'RE PATHETIC." she turned back to the girl, "GOOD LUCK WITH THAT SON-OF-A-BITCH-AND-A-BASTARD," she said, sticking a thumb over her shoulder to the now-fuming Scotsman before grabbing her bag and stalking out of the Great Hall.

As the doors slammed behind her Roger rolled her eyes. Such a typical Bell move.

…..he was happy he had a front row seat to the spectacle though.

He chuckled into his second glass of orange juice when a brilliant idea struck him. As he dove into his bag the dark haired girl was now commenting on what the whole hall just witnessed. He had to admit he did get a tad defensive when she mentioned what a girl-of-a-manly-barbarian Katie had gotten and almost said something as he resurfaced, quill, parchment and ink in Quidditch-calloused hands.

"What are you doing?" the girl next to him asked as he started writing with fever, shoulders hunched and nose almost touching the paper.

"Writing a letter," it was the only full sentence he'd said to her all morning.

Well….fragment more than a sentence. But it was better than anything else he had muttered previously.

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The next morning Roger completely disregarded anyone who even greeted him. If there was ever a day to be perfectly methodical it was today. He was on pins and needles as the mail soared in from the top window, the usual cascade of owls streaming in.

He glanced over at Katie as his own landed next to him. Her usually light hearted face was conducted into a scowl as three owls landed in front of her captain - even more, no doubt on their way. She rolled her eyes as a pink envelope was dropped into his cereal but smiled slightly as milk spilled into his lap.

Anxiously he waited for an owl to land in front of her. Wondering if it ever would he breathed a sigh of relief as Katie stared at the owl in front of her. Thumbing his fingers on the table, he watched as she gently untied the envelope from the tawny owl's outstretched leg, passing it a biscuit before it flew away. He watched as she ripped open the top a bit hesitantly and cautiously - not knowing what to expect. He watched as she read the letter, her green eyes flying across the page. She looked up startled, as if not daring to believe what she wrote. He waited for her to do something-glance his way even.

No such luck.

With horror he watched as her face formed into a unmistakable snarl (which meant she was five degrees passed pissed) and balled up the letter he had written in one quick motion of her Quidditch calloused hand.

"OLIVER TOBIAS WOOD!!!!" 

He slapped his hand against his forehead rather forcefully.

"YOU ARE SO PATHETIC! MAKING FUN AT ME WITH A FAKE LOVE LETTER!"

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT NOW BELL?"

"YOU KNOW FULL WELL WHAT!"

With a roll of his blue eyes Roger Davies gave up.

Later that day in History of Magic Roger was feeling rather down - he was human after all. And after all, she made him _methodical_. Sliding further down in his seat - his cool guy look as two girls smirked his way - and running a hand through his hair, he shook it off with a shrug.

He never liked being methodical anyway.  
He couldn't believe he'd kept it up for two weeks in the first place.  
He sent the girls a smirk of his own and smiled contently as they giggled.

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	2. Prof Severus Snape

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**Chapter Two written by:  
**_Lady Livia._

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**II  
Professor Severus Snape.**

Severus Snape stalked into his classroom, ordering the fifth year students to their seats. He flicked his swirling black robes back into a more comfortable (and ominous looking) position and took his place at the front of his dungeon classroom. He scowled as a few of the Ravenclaws continued their chit-chatter and snarled a nasty.

"I would have thought by fifth year you would have grasped the concept of silence when you enter my classroom… Ten points from Ravenclaw!"

The Ravenclaws in the class suppressed a groan, and the look on Snape's face could have stopped a clock.

"Well…?" he demanded "Why have you not got your books out?"

It was at that moment that the door to the classroom opened and a red faced Katie Bell stormed in, muttered an apology to the professor and sat at her usual table.

Snape did not even blink. "Miss Bell…" he drawled. "Do you at least have an excuse to be disrupting my class this late into the lesson?" he ignored the fact that the bell had only rang four minutes ago, but he did not care.

Katie muttered something even his sharp ears could not hear, but he thought he caught a few select words like "jerk" "prat" "Wood" and "git." Before she said more loudly,  
"No, Professor."

"I see." He replied "Ten points from Gryffindor for your tardiness."

This time the Gryffindors suppressed a groan.

Snape turned and moved over to his desk.  
"I have marked those scraps of rubbish you called essays, and was not in the slightest bit surprised that only a handful of you managed to pass the assignment."

As one, the class seemed to huff and a layer of very expected depression seemed to descend over them.

"As usual Mr. Wentz." He sneered to the closest Hufflepuff boy "A spectacular fail, your essay was so weak I must consider it a practical joke. I hate practical jokes. Five points from Hufflepuff for not taking my class seriously."

He went to move on then stopped and looked back at the Hufflepuff.  
"I take solice in the fact that you will not receive an 'outstanding' in the O.W.L.s therefore I will not be seeing you next year."

Snape finally went to move on, leaving the boy looking like he was about to burst into tears.

As he moved around the room, Snape took great pleasure in seeing the looks of disappointment as he handed out failed paper after failed paper. He found amusing the murderous looks of the students from the other houses as they noticed that most of the Slytherins scraped passing marks, as did three Ravenclaws and two Gryffindor students, one of which included the tardy Katie Bell.

"B minus!" Snape said as he placed Katie's essay in front of her on the table. She hardly looked at it and seemed rather preoccupied.

"First you arrive late, now you are not paying attention." He said coldly.

Katie looked up from twisting a strand of her golden hair about her finger.  
"I'm listening." She replied.

"Are you answering me back?"

"No."

"I hope not, I have no interest in spending an evening with you in detention…especially when you clearly would so much rather spend it with your dear quidditch captain."

Katie looked up at him, staring. Her face filled with an emotion he could not read. Snape resisted a smile, he had obviously been correct in the assumption that Oliver Wood was the reason behind the girl's mood. _What do we have here? _He thought _A little teenage puppy-love angst?_

Snape said nothing further to the girl staring up at him with wide green eyes, but simply moved along, handing out the next paper with a giant "F" on it.

At dinner that evening Severus Snape got to see more of the little epic he had, throughout the day, come to find interesting.

It began as the students slowly flowed into the hall.

He noticed Katie immediately, her blonde hair shining like a beacon amongst the mosaic of the other black and brown headed students. The girl headed to Gryffindor table and sat halfway up it next to Angelina Johnson. Not long later Wood entered the hall and took up a seat across the table from Katie and a few seats up.

Snape watched as the blonde shot him a dirty look. Wood seemed rather irritated by this and opened his mouth as if to say something to her, but Katie immediately and quite purposely turned away beginning a conversation with Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet.

Snape smirked, greatly amused and wished he could hear what Oliver Wood was saying as he leaned across the table and said something to Katie. The girl paused, but did not look around at her captain, then a moment later she continued her conversation with her friends. Wood shook his head then apparently gave up for the moment, reaching instead for a bread roll.

"Severus, are you quite alright?" Minerva McGonagall's voice sliced through Snape's thoughts, drawing his attention back up to his own table. He looked around at his colleague who was watching him attentatively.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked her quietly.

"You seem distracted" she replied simply.

"I am merely thinking Minerva." He retorted shortly.

"Nothing too strenuous I hope."

"More for amusement really."

"Oh?"

"A pair of your own students in fact."

"My students?"

"Bell and Wood to be specific."

"What about them?"

"They amuse me."

"They amuse you, how so?"

"Surely you've noticed."

"Noticed what Severus?"

"Their little…unique …relationship."

"I don't know what you mean Severus."

"I think you do."

"No, really Severus, what amuses you about them?"

"Why Minerva, I believe you may be just as blind as they are."

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_A/N: All links for the authors can be found on the pass.it.on-girls' profile page._


	3. The FanGirls

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**Chapter Three written by:  
**_xx. just . a . contradiction .xx_

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**III  
The Fan-Girls  
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The Great Hall was alive with the sounds and sights of several hundred ravenous students tucking into their evening meals, as overly self-confident second year Romilda Vane and her band of fellow ITTS ('I'd Tap That' Society) members trouped in through the large entrance way.

They'd just come from what they'd felt had been an extremely productive meeting, which had consisted of collective drooling over photographs of school heartthrobs; plotting the horrific and highly violent deaths of the girls who had managed to attract some kind of positive attention from the afore mentioned studs, namely, none of their own members; and deciding who was on Gossip Duty for the following week.

Yes, it had been a highly satisfying meeting and Romilda was privately quite pleased with herself for having turned a nearly diminishing organization into a full-blown Fan Club which had spread through the houses and years of the Hogwarts young women (and some men) and now incorporated over one hundred members, especially seeing as how she had done it in less than six months. Now, that took dedication. But Romilda didn't see it as a duty, nor did she see it as a chore… she saw it as an opportunity.

Secretly, Romilda fancied herself quite in love with Gryffindor lust-target Oliver Wood, and being intelligent enough to understand that it was highly unlikely the tall and burly fifth year Scotsman was ever going to notice her in normal circumstances, she had decided to embark on a mission to make him notice her, even if it meant making his life hell for a year or so first.

The brainchild behind the ITTS had been late-night conversations between her fellow first-year Lionesses and herself, conversations which more often than not, had revolved around the good looks and apparent charm of the four House studs, Diggory, Davies, Malfoy and Wood – all in the fifth year, bar Malfoy (who was one of the only decent looking Slytherin males, besides Blaise Zabini, who had, to put it mildly, some sexuality issues to deal with). The conversations had made her realize that she was far from the only girl who had a bit of a thing for the ruggedly attractive Wood and so, with encouragement from the other girls, she had formed the ITTS… a club where all girls (and boys, she supposed) who felt like she did, could congregate to celebrate the perfection that was the Hogwarts Stud-Quartet (™ ITTS Inc.).

'Romilda! Romildaaaaa!'

Looking up, startled from her self-praising daydream, Romilda turned her attention towards a hissing first-year Hufflepuff, who was looking rather put-out and obviously straining to keep from bursting out whatever it was she had to say.

'Yes, yes, what is it Adele?'

'I was walking down the Charms corridor on my way to see Binns about that essay we were given yesterday, when I heard that Spinnet girl from your house talking to Roger Davies… apparently, Oliver gave some love-letter to that Katie Bell this morning.' Adele said in a large rush of breath that made her quite difficult to understand.

'Katie Bell?' echoed Romilda incredulously, 'A love letter? Oliver wouldn't write a love letter… it's not in his character.'

'Well, that's not all,' continued Adele with a conspiratorial wink, leaning further in so that her lips were tickling Romilda's ear, 'apparently, they had quite a row in the Common Room earlier this afternoon and she's crying in her dormitory.'

'Ha, serves her right,' Romilda laughed, sneering at the thought of the pretty, vivacious fourth year Chaser crying her eyes out over an obviously faked love letter, 'as if Oliver would write a love letter! Especially to her!'

'Well,' Adele whispered with a slightly worried look as if she knew what she was going to say next would make Romilda explode, 'apparently Oliver didn't write it… apparently it was… Roger Davies.'

Romilda choked on her bread roll.  
'Roger Davies!? As in the Roger Davies!?'

'Yes,' affirmed Adele quietly, 'the Roger Davies.'

'But… but he's supposed to have good taste in women. I mean, at least Chang was attractive, even if she is the biggest dunce in the history of Asian supermodels.'

Wincing at this blatantly racist jibe, Adele shrugged.  
'Perhaps he's just a bit confused?'

'You don't say?' replied Romilda nastily, waving her hand tiredly, dismissing Adele in a way that was almost comical it was so overly dramatic.

Romilda had only just sufficiently calmed down enough to eat the remainder of her bread roll when there was a tentative tap on her shoulder and she turned to see a tiny, petite little first year standing behind her, rolling back and forth on her heels, her face all flushed as if she'd just run a mile.

'Can I help you… uh, oh Merlin, I've forgotten your name.' Romilda struggled to remember the little doll-like girl's name.

'It's Priscilla,' replied the little blonde pompously, her overly proper accent completely out of place with her sweet appearance, 'Priscilla Worthington.'

'Uh, sorry Priscilla,' Romilda said awkwardly, bemused by her, 'what can I do for you?'

'Oh, well I know I'm not on Gossip Duty this week,' Priscilla gushed, settling herself down between Romilda and the fiery-haired Ginny Weasley, who snorted at the girl's lack of height, 'but I just couldn't help overhearing something as I passed the Staff Table just now, and I thought that perhaps you ought to know.'

Romilda was finding it extremely difficult to keep from bursting into giggles at the over-dramatic tones the girl exhibited – which was, perhaps, quite hypocritical of her – and so, all she could do was nod and invite her to continue.

'Oh, well, you see, I was trying to find Professor McGonagall as she said she had to see me about some extra credit homework, and I found her talking to Professor Snape. And well, not wanting to be impolite, I waited until they finished their conversation before interrupting, so I had plenty of time to hear what they were talking about… and well,' here Priscilla paused, seemingly unsure of whether to continue or not, knowing that the subject at hand was extremely touchy, '…well, it seems that even Snape has seemed to notice that Oliver has well… he's well…'

'Will you just spit it out already!?' Romilda spat out herself, quite nastily, 'Anyone would think you had a stammer or something.'

Priscilla frowned, understandably offended, before shrugging, a conniving glint in her eyes. 'It seems that Oliver's become quite overly infatuated with Katie Bell, that fourth year Chaser.'

Romilda merely rolled her eyes.  
'If this is about that love letter, then its all old news… turns out it wasn't him that sent it anyway.'

'What love letter?' Priscilla asked, genuinely curious, 'I was talking about the fact that they're both failing Potions on the account that they're head over heels for one another…'

Romilda bristled, furious that, a) she hadn't known about this earlier, and b) that she'd had to hear it from some know-it-all first year with a ridiculous accent.

'But, I also have some good news, if you care to hear it…' Priscilla said temptingly, her voice annoying sing-song-y.

'Which would be?' Romilda asked, a migraine having suddenly presented itself to the front of her skull in a dramatic, agonizing way.

'That each of them has to find a tutor before the holidays or they're suspended from Quidditch until further notice.' Priscilla replied with a grin.

Just as suddenly as it had arrived, Romilda's migraine disappeared.  
'Until further notice?'

'Until further notice.' Priscilla confirmed, jumping up off the seat, 'Well, dinner calls, I'd best be off… Been a pleasure talking to you Romilda.'

Watching her as she strode off, her walk just as ridiculous as her accent, Romilda began to fall into deep thought, musing. 'Ha! That would kill you, Bell…'

'What would kill me?' asked a voice from behind her, and Romilda jumped, scared.

Katie Bell was standing behind her; her long mane of thick blonde hair messy and unruly as always and her eyes a little red around the rims.  
'What would kill me?'

'Uh, um,' Romilda cast around wildly for an idea, before a rather large one came crashing down on her, causing a wicked smile to form on her face, 'one more minute with that prat, Oliver Wood.'

'Tell me about it,' Katie said with a large sigh, sitting down beside the dark-haired second year, 'he has about as much tact as a bloody sledgehammer.'

'Hopelessly clueless…' Romilda supplied with a sympathetic nod.

'Impossibly.' Katie agreed, before raising an eyebrow, 'Wait a minute, aren't you one of those little ITTS girls who fancies herself as Oliver's wife or something?'

'God no!' Romilda exclaimed, a little too loudly, 'What kind of idiot would ever fancy herself married to a great Scottish lump like Wood?'

'Hmm.. weird,' Katie mused, reaching out for a bread roll, 'I could have sworn…'

'Obviously, you're mistaken,' Romilda said, getting to her feet, and brushing her skirt down nervously, 'It's been lovely talking to you Katie.'

'Uh, you too, uh…' Katie trailed off, unable to remember her name.

'Romilda,' the younger girl said with a smile, 'Romilda Vane.'

'Right,' Katie affirmed with a returning smile, 'Romilda.'

And with that, Romilda walked away, flashing a smile on her way out to an unusually gloomy looking Oliver Wood, who was seated between the Weasley twins Fred and George, both of whom grinned as she approached them.

'Uh-oh,' cried Fred as he and his twins threw themselves on top of their Captain, 'ITTS at twelve o'clock!'

'Arghhhh! Help us Merlin,' exclaimed George in a similar fashion to his brother, 'It's an Impossibly Tiny Tea-time Stalker!'

Smirking at their use of their made-up name for her Club, Romilda merely patted George's shoulder sympathetically as she strode by. 'You're just jealous because you haven't got your own Fan Club.'

Typically, so proud of her comeback was she, that she failed to hear the eruption of hysterical laughter that came from the table as she left the Hall, all at her expense.

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	4. Harry Potter

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**Chapter Four written by:**  
_Just-Katie-Jane12_

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**IV  
Harry Potter**

Harry Potter was an observer. As the youngest member of the Gryffindor quidditch team, there wasn't much else you could be. So, at four o'clock on Monday morning, Harry was watching a supposedly dull scene unfold before his eyes instead of actually participating in it. In all actuality, there was quite a bit going on that only Harry could see, because it took someone with impartial eyes to see it.

Harry knew, for example, that the frequent glances to a drooling Fred Weasley from Angelina Johnson meant that the two had been snogging in broom closets for maybe about a week, and that Angelina was probably hoping it would develop into something that hadn't entered Fred's brain yet. The confused look on George Weasley's face as he looked from Angelina to his brother meant that Fred hadn't bothered to mention said snogging yet. The smile on George's face, however, as a dozing Alicia Spinnet found his shoulder to be a comfortable pillow signaled to Harry that George retained hope despite Alicia's ever constant boyfriend, Andrew Fawcett.

In Oliver Wood's energetic instruction to his chasers, there was little to no depth. The strained contempt on Katie Bell's face, however, as she listened to said instruction, left no doubt to Harry that there was probably some kind of underlying cause to this. And, as Angelina giggled at Katie's latest outburst, Harry knew he was not alone in supposing this.

"Oliver!" yelled Katie, "This play is _impossible_!" 

Harry could see Oliver purse his lips and turn around, agitated. "No, it's _not_, Bell."

"It's ridiculously impossible! The pros couldn't pull this off! And where do you get off calling me _Bell?_? Why the hell am I Bell as soon as we step onto the pitch? I thought we were friends!"

"I'm your captain, not your friend…_Bell_. And watch your language."

"Why you-!" 

"Oi," said Fred lazily, suddenly jerking awake and standing up. "As much as I love listening to your sexually repressed anger, I believe I could do that about any time of the day. If I'm going to be up at four, I'd like to at least be practicing if I can't sleep."

"Shut up, Fred!!" 

Fred put his hands up in surrender as Oliver shouted for the team to get on the pitch and continued his shouting match with Katie Bell. Harry hung back and shouldered his Nimbus to try and get out of earshot. His ears sort of hurt.

George handed a yawning Alicia her broom hopefully and only Harry saw his face fall a little as she accepted it wordlessly and trotted behind Angelina. Harry shook his head and began to walk toward the pitch. _Girls_.

"All right there, Harry?" the twins called in unison as they clapped him on the back and hurtled past him.

"Yeah," Harry called half-heartedly after them. "Just like always."

Sometimes Harry got the feeling that the "All right there, Harry?"s were the rest of the team's way to try and make it up to him that they'd forgotten he was on the team in the first place. Not that it was really their fault, he figured, after all he was two years younger than the youngest one of them. Harry shook his head and kicked off the ground hard. The sooner he found the snitch, the sooner he could go back to bed.

Unfortunately, his peace was disturbed, as even a hundred meters above them Harry could still hear the shouting of his captain and Katie Bell.

"Oliver, I'm not going to purposely _jump off of my broom _just to catch this stupid red ball while I'm 200 meters above the very _solid_ ground! As much as you irritate me, I'm not yet suicidal!!"

"Everyone else is doing their part, Bell! All I'm asking for is a little participation. We need this play if we're going to beat Slytherin! They play dirty!"

"Yeah, well apparently it won't matter if we can't _play_! You went and got us practically banned because you're rubbish at potions and you're distracting me from doing my work properly! Where are we supposed to find a tutor?!"

"First off, _you're_ the one that's failing and it's_ not_ because of me. Second, it's not my concern you can't find a tutor! I know I'll be qualified to play."

"What?? _You found a tutor?!_ I thought we were supposed to find one together!!"

"You can join Cho and I if you want."

"Cho Chang!? You chose _her_??"

Harry's stomach did a back flip. He should get in on those potions tutorials.

"So?"

"So you only picked her because she's attractive!"

"And…?"

"You're such a pig! Does she even _know_ anything?"

Harry frowned. Much as he liked Katie, he didn't care for the way she'd asked the question.

"She's passing, which is more than you can say, Bell. Now get back to work! All of you! ...All right there, Harry?"

Harry rolled his eyes and waved Oliver off as he hunted for the snitch more diligently. He took off into the clouds, attempting different flying techniques and considering the situation. He didn't particularly like the idea of Cho alone in a dungeon with arguably the best looking quidditch captain in Hogwarts, who just so happened to be equipped with an attractive Scottish accent. This could all turn out to be very bad for Harry.

He weighed his options as he made a particularly marvelous catch and release of the snitch. In his mind, the only thing that would halt the chemistry between the two was Katie's being there, but upon observing the tempest brewing underneath the blue eyes and blonde head, he realized that there was no way that this was an option.

Back to the drawing board.

He could try and devise a potion to give Wood bad breath…no, he was probably just as awful at potions as Oliver or Katie was. Maybe telling Cho anonymously that Oliver had more sinister reasons for wanting to study? Actually, it was possible that that could make Cho even more eager to begin the study sessions…he sighed, exasperated, and suddenly an idea hit him.

What if one of them was taken?

That would certainly stem the budding romance. He considered the idea of asking Cho to go steady with him and then rejected it about as quickly as the idea had come. He could no sooner ask her for the time than her affection. That was no good. No, it would be far better if Oliver was the emotionally unavailable one, and it looked like Katie Bell was the most likely candidate to fill the spot. There was going to be problems with that, he knew, as he watched them hurl the quaffle at each other, but nothing that a little…teamwork…couldn't fix.

Harry cast his eyes about the pitch, trying to find the person most qualified to help him in his completely self-interested endeavor. It was obvious he couldn't do it himself—what did he know of the art of seduction?

Fred was the obvious choice if he wanted a quick snog job, but he was afraid action didn't constitute a relationship, which was what he was after. Cho needed to know that Oliver was off the market in all respects. George wouldn't do either. He seemed to be in enough of a predicament as it was, he thought, as he watched George tail Alicia closely, deflecting bludger after bludger from her path and leaving Angelina to be pummeled by the spare.

Harry frowned. Who else? Ron? No, Ron was about in the same boat as Harry himself was. The only other thing Harry could think of was getting some of Katie's own friends to help his cause. He'd just have to corner Angelina and Alicia after practice; pretend he was concerned after their friend and captain's best interest, and let them do the work. It wasn't something Harry was quite comfortable with, especially given his status as the youngest, but he was willing to do it, if just to protect even his ability to dream of Cho.

Harry was silently meditating on how to explain his problem when a shriek below him jerked his attention downward. Oliver was shouting happily and the three chasers were celebrating. It seemed that they had finally gotten their play right.

"What did I tell you?!" Oliver shouted, punching the air joyously. "What did I tell you! I knew you could do it! You're spectacular!"

"You should be congratulating Katie," laughed Alicia. "She was the one who finally jumped."

"But only because she was angry with you," Angelina added, grinning.

"Nonetheless, you did it!" Oliver yelled. "I love you guys!"

And he kissed an unsuspecting Angelina who blushed and then laughed. He then flew over to Alicia, did the same, and was compensated by a playful slap on the cheek. He flew over to Katie in his euphoria, prepared to kiss her, and then suddenly stopped.

The grin on Katie's face dropped as Oliver awkwardly grabbed her hand to shake it, pounded her on the back, and said, "Nice work, Bell. Knew you had it in you."

Oliver turned away quickly, fighting to keep the pink twinge in his cheek from being seen and yelled, "Alright team, good work! That's it for this morning! Lockers!"

Katie Bell was still sitting on her broom, the look of shock and apparent disappointment still on her face. As Oliver turned back around, however, she quickly gave into a look of disgust and hit the ground, stomping off toward the locker room.

"What's wrong with her?" Oliver asked as the rest of the team landed on the ground.

Angelina rolled her eyes. "Three guesses, Oliver," she said as she and Alicia retreated after Katie.

Oliver's good mood seemed to melt instantaneously as he shook his head exasperatedly and walked off.

Harry followed Fred and George into the locker room, showered and dressed quickly, wanting to catch the girls still in their half of the locker room. He opened the door cautiously as any sensible boy of fourteen would, and walked in. He looked around but failed to find either Angelina or Alicia.

Frowning, he turned to leave when he heard a small sound like someone crying coming from the other side of the lockers. He turned back around and walked over to find Katie, her back to him, crying bitterly in her robe, trying to dry the mass of damp golden hair with a towel.

"Katie?" Harry asked cautiously.

Katie turned around, eyes red, not seeming to register that the fact that Harry was standing in her locker room was odd.

"Are you okay?" he asked, uneasy about the situation.

Katie wiped her eyes quickly, stood up, and clapped him on the back as she exited.

"All right there, Harry?" she asked, pulling open the door.

Harry decided he was going to stop answering this question.

* * *

_A/N: if you have any ideas for the title of this story, we'd love to hear from you... all ideas are welcome.  
Thanks a lot!  
x_


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